Monthly Archives: May 2019

.cloth.

no she never bought dishcloths

my mum.

that does not mean she did not use them.

remember

she was a single parent of four

and things were still rationed

after the war.

we asked the butcher for meat cloths alongside pig’s heads

and liver.

i hated asking for breast of lamb

rude to mention private bits.

later mum boiled the cloths in the pan with persil

&

possibly bleach.

it got the fat meat out.

cut them neatly for dishcloths.

old vests were not wasted nor discarded, underwear

was useful for cloths and dusters.

never a yellow one at our house

though we did have candy stripe

formerly a pillow case.

you make speeches, you rally while i remember my mother.

.ashphalt.

i thought it was tarmacadam as did the passer by

who remarked upon it.

it is not mine, it is the neighbour’s

drive.

i know now it is ashphalt

a stronger surface allegedly. the former surace cracked

in danger of breaking up like mine which i prefer.

more country

where flowers seed.

i know that pitch comes from a lake in trinidad

and i like the words bitumen and tar.

i like the aroma and stickiness to poke with sticks

set now

.creosote.

time stops in winter

here.

we find it manageably quiet.

today we drives to conwy busy

with people making holidays

is lovely.

yet i cannot find it easy.

i buys the trousers i have wanted for such a long time

from the pound rail.

look at cakes as is my hobby.

talk about angels and return home.

quiet.

apart from the men laying tarmacadam opposite.

it smells nice as does the creosote from yesterday.

while the music plays softly.

.dignity and the fox.

there on the road ahead.

looking toward me with dead eyes.

mouth open.

i could not stop

nor swerve

for sunday traffic.

slowing i gently made sure the body

was not touched by wheels.

straddling.

as did the car behind

me.

after i stopped to post a letter

and stayed a while to look

at the fields around

me.

.boat shape.

i saw it sailing by

at the night watch

clouds arranged dramatic.

let it go,

oh let it go,

let it sail free

.dignity and the fox.

there on the road ahead.

looking toward me with dead eyes.

mouth open.

i could not stop

nor swerve

for sunday traffic.

slowing i gently made sure the body

was not touched by wheels.

straddling.

as did the car behind

me.

after i stopped to post a letter

and stayed a while to look

at the fields around

me.

.flying.

ran out yesterday

lost you completely with the pattern in the sky

the leaves on the oak

on the mountain. i lost you

you left the group

took off and flew

flight was not sustained

hovering over past demeanours

faltered

landed carefully

in disappointment hugging

affirming it did not matter

.kiss the ancestors.

i am travelling to the end of the world

with you.

all.

unless we stop to

start again.

unless we travel more careful

we shall see

blackened lakes.

kissing the ancestors, hugging the memories presently.

now

the will of the people over rides that of the mystery.

throwing all into
misalignment.

.early summer.

we noticed it that day and found it omninous.

february 2019

the sea is quiet as we have never seen it

sun as hot as it gets

like summer

they gloried in it

the bathers

the media

we watched

while the ice melted.

.the photographs.

i saw you fallen

&

photographed you

took you to be stitched.

yet i could not save you

nor

any of you.

you are a metaphor for death.

these

old photographs spur us on

to
care and treasure,

to

sweep and clean.

i keep yours by the stairs

to remind

that if you could leave us

so can anyone.

so

having written of the hour,

move on when all seems lost.

the days remain

timeless.